Finding a funky restaurant was easy. Finding one the Secret Service would approve? Not so much. Then the AC broke. Would this meal happen or not?
Landing in Hanoi, I knew shockingly little about what to expect. At least the surroundings were familiar. Heading into town from the airport, my car was adrift in the usual sea of motorbikes, some carrying well-dressed commuters in suits or high heels, others laden with an impossible cargo, like a mattress or a family of eight, toddler perched on the handlebars.